Across a Room 
by 
BGM 
 
Across a room I spotted you; 
Discreet, Mysterious, Exotic. 
Across a room I wanted you; 
Salacious, Lecherous, Erotic. 
Across a room I went to you; 
Uncertain, Insecure, Erratic.   
 
Across a room you  spotted me; 
Benevolent, Ingenuous, Lovely.  
Across a room you  wanted me; 
Enchanting,  Tantalizing, Fiery. 
Across a room you came to me; 
Compassionate, Gentle, Trusty. 
 
-- Yours truly 
 
 
"Well Doctor?  Will you, or will you not?" 
 
Julian sighed and rose heavy-lidded eyes to his friend, trying very hard to melt through 
his chair ... through the floor ... away. 
 
Everything had started about two hours ago, when the annual social ball had come into 
full swing.  What had once been a strictly human occasion back at the Academy had 
turned to be quite the event on station DS9, with aliens ranging from Ferengis, to 
Betazoid, to ... one sole Cardassian.   
 
Julian hadn't noticed his lunch companion until the good part of the second hour, when 
he'd went to the bar to order a glass of champagne.  Waiting for his glass he'd turned and 
leaned over the counter, surveying the bay.   
 
What had been the previous morning a blank cargo bay was now dressed up as a 
sumptuous ballroom, drapery hung over decorative windows, artificial sunlight casting a 
joyful, sunny ambiance to the place.  The floor was polished, allowing a loud patter of 
heels and lustrous shoes to mingle with the constant chatter of men and women and 
aliens.  And though Sisko had suggested everyone use customary Human dress, Kira had 
quickly disabused him of the idea and told everyone to dress according to their people's 
traditional evening attire.   
 
The result was a rich blend of cultural differences, colours and elegant fabrics splashing 
here and there, giving the room an aspect of doubled mirth.   
 
As there were slightly more Humans in the crowd, flashes of black and  white were seen 
for the men, black or subdued colors for the women.  Next were Bajorans, arrayed in 
stylish reds and tan.  Bashir himself had refused the traditional tuxedo and had gone for a 
more exotic look - the one the ancient Caliphs of his land used to wear.  A luxurious 
white uniform, tailored specially for his thin frame, hugged his body in perfect harmony.  
A sash ran across his breast to a thick fabric belt, while long, straight trousers of the same 
color finished the rest.  These were tucked tightly inside almost knee-high boots of pure 
black, and a high collar hugged his neck where he'd attached his pins.  A long saber hung 
at his waist. 
 
He couldn't count the number of compliments and flirtatious invitations he'd received 
since walking inside the bay, but as Julian leaned across the counter and surveyed the 
crowd, he realised the attention had died down somewhat.  What utter relief!   
 
However, his own attention became suddenly focused to _another_ matter.  Across the 
room, he'd though he'd seen ... yes, Garak, standing inside the entrance, hands on hips, 
and looking at the place with gorgeous authority.  When Julian pulled away from the 
intent peaceful grey face, he looked down at what his Cardassian friend was wearing.  
His heart stopped!    
 
Quite the opposite of his own wear, the tailor had gone for the Cardassian traditional style 
- he supposed this since he'd never _seen_ the traditional evening wear of Cardassian 
civilians.  From collar to shoes, the tailor was arrayed in exquisite black.  A rich scarf of, 
silk Julian assumed, hugged his wide neck before tucking into the low collar of his tunic.  
This was in turn a tight fitting overcoat, curving at the waist, falling way below the waist 
in loose folds.  Were it not for the colour, Julian would have believed his legs to be bare, 
for the trousers he wore embraced them like a second skin.  A sword was equally at his 
side, though much more wicked looking than Julian's.  Twin thin blades, gleaming with a 
burnished handle.  Even Worf's Bath'Leh looked bland in comparison.   
 
And as he walked forth, the loud confident click of heels sounded at each step.  He 
looked ... magnificent.  And he ... was walking straight for him. 
 
Turning to grasp his drink, Julian swallowed and hurried to his seat, hoping Garak hadn't 
seen him.   
 
But he had, and he was curbing his course to join him at his position. 
 
"My dear Doctor, may I say ... you look absolutely ravishing," Garak said upon his 
arrival, sweeping his gaze down at Julian's body. 
 
This from Garak's mouth caused the young man to gape in shock.  "E-excuse me?" 
 
"Why Doctor ... what you're wearing!  It definitely suits you."  He growled low, almost 
imperceptibly, and added, "Definitely," in a low sexy voice. 
 
Flirting!  Garak was flirting with him, and outrageously too!  Julian took a quick sip of 
his champagne to clear his throat.  When he settled it on a near table, he looked back at 
his expectant friend.  "Well ... you also look ... ravishing," Julian stammered out, feeling 
odd for saying it.  It sounded too forced, even when he absolutely agreed with his own 
observation. 
 
"Well," Garak smiled kindly, glancing at the crowd.  "Since we seem to be the only 
ravishing creatures around, would you care to dance?" 
 
At those words Julian lightly jumped in his seat, trying to blink away his confusion.  
...Dance?  With Garak?  Why in the world would he ask such a thing when all they'd 
shared in the last three years were lunches and arguments.  And then there was that little 
matter of the attraction he felt ... something he'd tried to hide, even from himself, 
wouldn't be so inconspicuous once they start dancing.  At that point other concerns 
assaulted him - what would the others think, seeing him dancing with Garak?  Did he 
care?  He glanced sideways, to where Worf and Dax were dancing a Klingon SuV'wi 
waltz.  He smothered the urge to stick out his tongue in disgust, and figured if _that_ 
show wasn't offending anyone, then the sight of a Cardassian and a Human dancing 
wouldn't get a rise out of anyone either.    
 
"Well Doctor?  Will you, or will you not?" 
 
Julian sighed and rose heavy-lidded eyes to his friend, trying very hard to melt through 
his chair ... through the floor ... away.  He wanted to, and despite the nagging feeling that 
told him he really shouldn't, he rose and nodded briskly. 
 
"Splendid," Garak cooed.  "Who shall lead?"  he inquired. 
 
"I'll lead," Julian said promptly, and took the Cardassian's hand before pulling him into 
the crowd.  Garak followed, a secret smile on his lips.  

When Julian turned to him, hardly an emotion fluttered across the tailor's features as he 
said,  "All right, but only if I get to lead later on, Doctor."  He smiled at the flush that 
crept to Julian's cheeks. 
 
"What do you mean by that?" asked Julian, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. 
 
Garak adopted a look of unconvincing innocence.  "Why, when we dance again dear 
Doctor!  What did _you_ think I meant?" 
 
Julian sighed loudly, and as he was about to spit out some reply, he became suddenly 
very nervous.  They were virtually standing in the middle of the bay, and scarce dancers 
were left as the soft music rose across the ballroom.  The flush on Julian's cheeks 
heightened in colour, and he broke into a cold sweat.  "Garak, I don't think I can ..." 
 
"Oh hush Doctor, we don't even have need for a leader.  Look at the others," he smiled 
pleasantly, tossing his head at some random couple.  The man and woman were smiling 
lovingly to each other, hands laced over each other while they made a languid turn on 
themselves. 
 
Julian looked, then immediately dropped his eyes to the floor.  "We can't dance like 
_that_!" 
 
Garak looked sincerely puzzled.  "Why ever not?" 
 
"Because that's the way you dance when you're .... that is when you're ... Oh Garak, I 
can't do this!" 
 
Garak sighed, a touch of annoyance finally visible on his face.  "If it's embarrassment you 
are trying to stave off, you are not doing yourself a favour by standing here arguing with 
me!  Now come here, and let us dance!" 
 
Garak pulled him to his chest, his hands wound tightly around his waist.  Julian landed 
with a slight 'oof', then winced as both the handles of their swords bumped against each 
other.  He looked down and frowned.  "I didn't know you were left-handed," he 
remarked. 
 
"I'm not," Garak said casually, pulled back slightly to glance down as well.  "But the 
traditional Selatrel is always worn on the right side of a Cardassian soldier's waist."  He 
shrugged.  "I was never good at wielding it.  My grand-father used it in the Delakar duel 
in Selabre city and the sword was never used again.  I simply inherited it." 
 
Julian raised his eyebrows at this rare piece of information on Garak's heritage and got 
closer, back into position.  He wondered for a brief moment where to put his hands, when 
Garak's strong arms circled his waist again.  He sighed unknowingly and snaked his 
hands to hug the Cardassian's back.  
 
"Now this isn't so bad," Garak whispered. 
 
Julian was too lost in the heat flooding his body to respond.  He was certain he was red as 
a beet, and so he buried his face against Garak's shoulder.  "I can't believe I'm doing this," 
he groaned against the thick fabric. 
 
Garak sniffed, and Julian felt the powerful chest buck against him.  With incongruous 
awe, Julian also began to register the Cardassian's heartbeat, a loud thud reverberating 
even to where his ear was pressed.     
 
"I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you Doctor." 
 
"It's not you," he whispered.  "I just don't do well performing in public." 
 
"These are your friends," reasoned the tailor.  "If they tease you in any way, then they're 
not very _good_ friends, are they?  Besides, on Cardassia, it's quite a frequent custom for 
two person of the same gender to dance this close.  It tightens the bond of friendship." 
 
Julian peeked a look at his friend.  "Really?" 
 
"Hm," Garak nodded.  "By doing this, you acknowledge to your friend that you consider 
your relationship so close that the opinion of others does not matter." 
 
Julian considered this and nodded quietly in thought.  After a moment he leaned back to 
his place, though moved upward a bit to reach the Cardassian's ear.  He gathered a 
courageous breath and whispered, "But what if your friend wants more than simple 
friendship?"   
 
He gasped as Garak moved closer, resting the length of his body against Julian, making 
the unmistakable hardness straining against his trousers press tightly over Julian's groin.  
In his ear, scalding heat swept aside curls of his hair.    
 
"Then this also presents a perfect opportunity to demonstrate your feelings to your friend 
_without_ verbally expressing it," Garak whispered back before he ran his tongue across 
the delicate cartilage of Julian's ear.            
 
"Garak ..."  
 
"Shall I tell you what I've been thinking about ever since I've stepped foot inside this 
bay?" Garak said huskily, reaching up to cup the back of Julian's head. 
 
The young man closed his eyes and touched his chin over Garak's shoulder, exhaling 
loudly.  "What?" 
 
"How delicious you look with those clothes on.  How I've had to redouble my control not 
to take you right then and there.  Do you have any idea what you do to me?"  His breath 
got heavier as he pressed closer, tightly against the lithe body of his friend. 
 
Julian bit back a moan, his hands sliding around Garak's waist and holding on.  "I've been 
having the same thoughts ... when you came in, you looked so ... so," he ducked his head 
and said in a low voice, "so commanding, I just couldn't stop myself from thinking these 
thoughts ..."   
         
"What thoughts Julian?"  The hard weight against him seem to harden even more in 
anticipation and arousal.  "Tell me ..." 
 
With another breath, Julian lost all resolve.  "I was thinking about you and me ... about 
you fucking me Garak.  Oh Allah, I want it Garak.  Please, let's leave.  I want to, tonight, 
with you." 
 
A gentle laugh reverberated against him.  "We haven't finished our dance Doctor." 
 
Julian pulled away, gazing into Garak's eyes questioningly.  "To hell with the dance 
Garak.  I want you." 
 
Garak stared back with a glint of challenge in the icy depths of his eyes.  "Then kiss me," 
he said with a breathless whisper. 
 
The doctor's face dropped, flushing a deep crimson.  "Not ... Garak, I _can't_, not here." 
 
Garak's face hardened a notch.  "I'm not leaving with you until you kiss me here Doctor."  
He disengaged slightly and leaned forward confidentially.  "I will not permit myself the 
hurt of being an embarrassment to you Doctor.  Until you do this for me, I will not go 
anywhere with you."  He smiled as he gauged the young man's reaction, which at the 
moment was one of sheer surprise.  He pulled back and added, "I have many secrets 
Doctor.  But I refuse to be labeled as one in your life.  I'll be around if you reconsider," he 
said, and with a polite tilt of the head, sauntered away toward the bar.  
 
He stood there, bereft, and turned slightly to see who had caught the private exchange.  
He groaned inwardly when Leeta made her way to him.  He looked up just as Ziyal was 
nearing Garak.   
 
_Vultures_, he thought unkindly before putting on his most charming smile for the 
Bajoran. 
 
~~~ 
 
"Now _why_ would I do that?" Garak asked, folding his arms contemptuously across his 
chest.  Ziyal sighed and rolled her eyes.   
 
"You really _are_ stubborn, aren't you Elim?  Damn you, go to him!  Stop playing these 
silly games with him." 
 
Garak harumphed, leaning across the bar as he watched Julian smiling brightly for the 
lovely Leeta.  He narrowed his eyes just as Ziyal added, "He is not Cardassian Elim.  His 
ways are not the same.  What would his friends say if they saw you both kissing?" 
 
"That he has sense enough to discard any foolish hesitation and choose to be seen with 
me.  I was prepared to accept the fact he didn't want to be around me.  For some time I 
thought he simply grew bored, or annoyed of my presence."  He looked sideways to the 
young woman and shook his head.  "But he wants this as much as I do Tora." 
 
"If that's true, then you should accept him the way he is and learn to respect his wishes," 
she said earnestly. 
 
Garak smiled with sudden amusement.  "And since when do labor camp prisoners get the 
opportunity to acquire wisdom?" 
 
She smiled as she walked passed him with her glass of rokassa juice.  "Since they have 
the intelligence to have it when they're born.  And stop calling me Tora!" she laughed, 
tapping his arm playfully. 
 
He rolled his eyes.  "It _is_ your first name.  Oh, yes, how quick I am to forget.  You are 
also Bajoran.  Very well, _Ziyal_." 
 
"Be glad I didn't choose Ziyal Dukat," she warned. 
 
He made a face.  "Gul forbids.  I'm glad you stuck with your mother's name.  Now go 
on," he smiled kindly.  
 
"Will you tell me all the details in the morning?" she grinned, and ducked under his 
playful blow before jogging away.  "See you later!" 
 
~~~ 
 
Leeta finally stopped her jabbering and looked at where Julian kept glancing.  "Are you 
looking for someone Julian?" she asked, her girlish voice suddenly grating on Julian's 
nerves.  He smiled politely and turned to her with great control over his face, which at the 
moment wanted nothing better than sneer down at her.   
 
"Actually I was.  I ... I was waiting for the next song to ask someone to dance." 
 
She frowned slightly.  "Oh.  And who did you have in mind?" 
 
About a dozen names flooded his mind, anything to throw at her for her to be content 
with, but Garak's words replayed in his mind.  He sighed and turned his eyes on the 
tailor, now alone and sipping thoughtfully at a glass of kanar.  "Him," he said with a 
slight toss of the head.  Leeta followed his eyes and jerked her back slightly in surprise.   
 
"I see.  Oh well," she exhaled with disappointment.  "Maybe later?" she asked with 
renewed hope. 
 
The hope was promptly extinguished.  "I doubt it.  I won't be here." 
 
"And where will you be?" she asked, trying to keep her interest at bay. 
 
He smiled and began to walk away.  "Hopefully, with him."  He turned away from her 
disappointed face and headed toward Garak, who made no overt reaction to his approach.   
 
Smiling slyly, Julian leaned sideways across the counter, curbing an arm behind the 
Cardassian as though he were approaching someone in a crowded bar.  "Excuse me sir," 
he said nonchalantly, surveying the crowd.  "But I couldn't help but note how utterly 
ravishing you looked from my point of view."  He looked back and licked his lips.  "And 
you'll forgive me - I don't ask many strangers this upon a first encounter, but would you 
mind terribly if I kissed you?"     
 
Garak turned, deposited his glass on the bar and turned back, trying very hard not to grin.  
"Why, sir, I do hope you won't make a habit out of approaching other men with such 
requests!" 
 
Julian leaned in and winked.  "Only if they happen to be Cardassian tailors named Elim 
Garak," he whispered, before locking his lips with the tailor.  A sense of great 
deliberation flooded both their souls, and only managed to heightened the kiss as their 
tongues dueled lightly against each other.    
 
When they pulled back, a pair of lustful blue eyes stared unwaveringly at passionate 
mahogany fire.  Julian parted his lips and whispered, "Shall I escort you to my quarters, 
dear sir?" 
 
Garak swallowed and nodded briskly.  "I think ..." he closed his eyes and recaptured his 
breath.  "I think I would enjoy that very much," he said huskily before they both hurried 
out of the bay. 
 
In another corner, Worf turned away from the spectacle, sneering.  "That was disgusting." 
 
Ziyal, who had been smiling sweetly, turned to the Klingon and snorted bitterly.  "Just 
like Klingons.  Crude, rude, and no brains.  It's an amazing wonder what Dax sees in 
you," she said with a disgusted leer, turning away to join Kira. 
 
Behind him, Dax, who'd caught the exchange, lightly tapped Worf's shoulder.  When she 
had his attention, she smiled sweetly and splashed her drink in his face.  "Swak'lar," she 
cursed fluently at him before stalking away. 
 
Worf growled furiously, and pounded his fist into the wall. 
 
THE END 
 
Swak'lar - bigot.